The Tape
by Breeze1
Summary: This is a prologue to my Fic "Bad Blood Between Us." It took a while to upload, but it finally worked.


Disclaimer: They ain't mine.

Notes: This is a continuation to "Bad Blood Between us". You don't have to read that story first, but it would help to know what went down… There are some scenes with violence and a few bad words. I'd like to thank Beth for Beta reading this sucker, it helped a lot. Now, enjoy. Wha ha ha ha haaaaa

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The Tape

Richard Domanice sighed as he leaned back in his overly stuffed chair. He'd spent a lot of time working on this case for the last few days, and he still had about six hours to throw in tonight. Six long hours, five of which he had to spend watching a damn tape for information and evidence.

It was for the Marcus Hobbes drug case that had gone down two weeks before. They wanted this one wrapped up quickly because a former agent had been running the whole illegal deal. It was embarrassing to the Bureau, having one of their own turn bad, not that it hadn't happened before. At that thought he perked up slightly. Agent Hobbes had been involved in this. In fact, this tape was supposed to be about his abduction or something, but nobody was quiet sure since the tape hadn't been viewed yet.

Robert Hobbes. Richard thought of that name with disgust. He had heard all about that bastard. How he'd left some children in a building with a bomb set to explode all because he wanted to catch the bad guy that he'd had a personal beef with. Innocent children left to die because of his damn need for vengeance. And they had died in the bomb's explosion, their bodies being too torn up to really identify, except for blood and hair samples. It made him sick. Whatever was on the tape he held, he suddenly wanted to see it. He wanted to see the sick agent suffer. The man wouldn't even admit that he had left them to die. He'd said that they had already been killed, but his partner had sung a different story, and his partner had always been the better of the two.

Richard walked to the VCR and put the tape in. It was time to watch and review. He sat back down at his desk and picked a pen and paper. In a few days somebody else would go over this and officially type it all up, for now they just wanted the basics. He shifted in his seat to get comfortable, picked up the remote and hit play. A few moments later the tape began.

Charlie Capriest stood, looking at the tape for a moment and then smiled when he was sure it was recording. Richard felt a chill creep up his spine from the almost psychotic glaze.

"Here you go Marcus. Enjoy the show." The man spoke softly and turned to a side table. When he moved there was a direct line of view to a man who hung from a pair of handcuffs attached to the ceiling. His toes just touched the floor, offering him no release from the strain on his arms. The man was Robert Hobbes, and his glare was more unnerving the Capriest's gaze. Suddenly Capriest's voice filled the room, picking up from a previous conversation not taped.

"Anyway, your brother requested that I finish you off for him the right way. You did ruin his life for the second time in a row, after all. He really hates you. Wanted me to tape the whole thing so he could watch it from prison, or when he got out, or whenever. He said something about revenge being sweet. I have to agree." The man was back in the screen now and Hobbes watched his every move, though he was helpless. Richard knew what was happening. Torture before death. Not the nicest thing to go through but if anyone deserved it, it was Hobbes. No. He took a breath and leaned back as he watched the paranoid agent's body shake from short bursts of electricity. Nobody deserved torture and he felt ashamed to have even thought that, but after leaving kids to die it was hard not to hate him.

Hobbes jerked again on the screen; Capriest was laughing lightly as if it was a game. Blood trickled down the tortured mans lip, probably from biting his tongue. So far he hadn't cried out, only making strangled noises. Tough little bastard, Richard thought as he took notes. By now Hobbes was panting heavily, his body shaking. Capriest stood back to admire his handiwork, grinning again and humming a little. Finally he turned and walked back to the table. Hobbes had raised his eyes and was once again watching the man's every move, hatred clear on his face. At least it's not a child Richard thought, and again chastised himself.

What had really happened was uncertain. So far he had confirmed that electricity had been used. When they'd gone through the warehouse it had been reported that all the instruments had been cleaned. They'd also been informed that Hobbes had walked out after holding them off at gun point, so he had obviously not been that hurt. The Department of Fish & Game was not releasing information on his condition, at his own request, so they didn't have much to go on in that area.****Turning his attention back to the screen he noticed Capriest circling the hated agent, a finger trailing over the slick skin on his neck, scratching it with the nail. The man was still humming, until Hobbes spoke.

"So, enjoying yourself?"

"Quite."

"You do this often?" What was the guy asking questions like that for? Why was he suddenly interested in the small facts when facing possible death?

"Unfortunately no. The big men upstairs frown upon it unless it gets us something."

"Well, I'd recommend that you don't quit your day job, but it's a little late for that." The man's eyes clouded with anger and he swung his left arm hard, hitting lower back. Hobbes's eyes scrunched and his face went red from the pain. He struggled to pull in air as Capriest walked around the front, light glinting off his knuckles, off some brass knuckles. He hit him again in the stomach and Richard could picture the abused muscle tightening under the shirt, but he didn't feel too much sympathy. A few more punches were thrown and Hobbes was left alone, hanging limply from the handcuffs. Obviously trying to relax his muscles while he had the chance. A moment later his eyes were once again following his captor.

Richard wrote these facts down, the more the merrier, and some people had requested the details. He was only obliging. After a few moments of silence Hobbes gasped out.

"That's a short fuse you're running on there. I know a shrink that could help you with that problem…" laughing was heard from off screen.

"You never give up. Well, your brother said as much. It's probably the reason you were such a good agent, even though paranoia has always held a big part."

"Yeah, well. You've seen my brother, he's reason enough to become paranoid. Then of course there's all the guys like you." When there was no reply Hobbes continued, seemingly indifferent. "So, when did you and Girect become buddies? I never even suspected that you two had it in for me."

"Yes well, let's just say you pissed us off to no end."

"I'm that good huh?" Suddenly Hobbes's watchful and angry gaze drifted to the camera. His eyes bore into whoever was watching and Richard unconsciously leaned back to get farther away from it. The look was cold, and stubborn, yet there was the sense of triumph in it. Like he felt he was winning a battle that he couldn't win. Then his eyes drifted back to his captor and Richard sighed, making more notes. This was one weird bastard if anything, but there was something in the tone that he used, something that said he was right and everyone else was wrong. Of course, he'd always been like that from the way his partners and bosses described him. Thought he was always right.

A knife glinted in Capriest's hand as he headed back to Hobbes. He rubbed it slowly across the man's cheek, threatening to break skin. Trying to scare him. It wasn't working from what Richard could tell and that made Capriest mad. He suddenly ripped open Hobbes' buttoned-up shirt, exposing his chest. Some bruises were already turning to a shade of purple and he smiled, pressing a finger into one.

"You think you're so good. You think you're the best don't you. Well, you didn't one-up me you bastard, cause I've got you now and you're going to die." There was no reply and he traced the knife down the muscled chest. "You might be good. Hell, you've got one hell of a record going for you. Right up to the point that they booted you."

"Didn't we already have this conversation?"

"What's wrong, don't want to hear about how everyone hates you?"

"It ain't nothing I haven't heard before, I don't need to hear it again." He tried to move away from the hands tracing the scars on his front, but it didn't accomplish anything.

"It really gets to you doesn't it? Knowing they all dropped you on your ass after what you'd done. Of course they thought you deserved it. Stupid sometimes aren't they? Of course, when it involves children, most aren't that forgiving." Capriest pushed the sharp blade under the material surrounding the arm and began to cut it away. Richard wrote furiously, starting to realize what Hobbes was saying when he had been looking into the camera. He wanted whoever was watching, to get information. He was setting Capriest up. 

Richard began to get nervous. He couldn't explain the feeling, maybe it was anticipation for the information he was going to receive from this tape. Maybe it was in fear of what he was going to hear. What were these two men implying when they said Hobbes had been dropped on his ass, and that 'they'd' thought he deserved it? He was suddenly afraid that they were implying that the Bureau had been tricked. He didn't know the details, but he was also beginning to put two and two together. He watched in fear now, beginning to feel sympathy for the man being tortured.

"I don't need this, just kill me already and stop wasting my time." Hobbes ground out as his shirt fell away completely, exposing his whole upper body. Capriest stood back to admire it a moment before moving in and tracing the blade around some scars.

"Where is the fun in that? You lost your nerve little man?" A spark lit his captor's eyes. "No, of course you haven't, but you're going to. I want you too scream, and beg me to kill you. I think that is what your brother wants too. Huh? Yeah, he wants you to suffer…" He walked behind him and Hobbes's face once again lit up with pain. A knife fell to Capriest's side, blood dripping from it.

"First blood Marcus, the way you wanted it." He spoke into the camera and grinned. "You're gonna die a loser Hobbes, a failure. Everyone will always know what you did."

"I didn't do anything. They were dead!" He jerked, trying an impossible attempt to get free. They were dead? Richard leaned forward.

"Yes, I know. Girect and I both knew. Those children were stabbed to death long before you got there, we were just waiting for you to show up and find the killer. I don't blame you for putting him in a coma, that sick bastard deserved it, killing the innocent like that. Of course it was easy to say you left them to die. Not many people liked you anyways. Just convince the few to convince the many. It always works." The tape was paused and Richard wrote furiously. 

Holy shit. Hobbes hadn't left the kids to die. He hadn't, and he had said he hadn't. They hadn't believed him at all. Richard stared at the screen, Hobbes hanging, frozen in the center. He hadn't left them to die. He had told the truth and they had "dropped him on his ass." They had dismissed everything he had done. Made a joke out of him. Humiliated him on more than one account and had him thrown out of the Bureau. Guilt. Right now Richard felt guilty at the wrong done toward Hobbes. No wonder the man hated them so much. It seemed he had the right to not trust them, but they hadn't had that right. He marked the time on the tape down. He would bring it to the top men and show them. It wasn't much, but getting the truth out would hopefully ease some of the guilt. He turned the tape back on and for four and a half more hours he watched.

The knife had come and gone several times, a whip, a needle filled with something that caused Hobbes to lose focus. Electricity, a cattle prod, salt…it went on. Capriest constantly laughed until he began to get frustrated. Hobbes would not scream. The brass knuckles came and left. It was slow and painful to watch. But Richard watched it. And a respect for the man on screen grew with each moment. 

Capriest was yelling and storming off the screen. He came back with a small steel saw. Hobbes watched him through pain filled eyes, still managing a glare.

"All you have to do is scream. I'll end it quickly and you don't have to feel this anymore. I promise, just scream for me." Hobbes lifted his head, opened his mouth to scream, but instead he spit on his captor. That had been the wrong move and Capriest, growling in anger, stormed up to him, saw clutched angrily. What happened then was almost too quick to follow and Richard watched the tape twice just to make sure he'd seen it right. Hobbes had grabbed onto the chains of the handcuffs and had pulled himself up, kicking his feet out in front. But instead of impacting with the flesh he wrapped his legs around the guys neck, pulling him close enough so that he was sitting on his shoulders. With the extra height he lifted his arms off the hook in the ceiling and both men crashed to the ground. Capriest had been shocked by the sudden act of retaliation, and he scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible, trying to understand the situation. Hobbes had stood up also and he kicked out with his left foot, hitting Capriest's hand and sending the saw flying across the room. He took one step and had double fisted Capriest across the face, knocking him out cold. The unconscious form fell to the ground with a thud and Hobbes watched a moment before collapsing himself.

He remained on his knees a moment, his arms folded tightly into his stomach. His body gleaming in the artificial light, and Richard could see the blood dripping along his side. A moment later it seemed Hobbes was done with his rest, and he crawled forward on his knees, to Capriest. He pulled a gun from its holster and aimed it at the man's head, seriously contemplating an execution, before growling in frustration and continuing the body search. He pulled another gun from the mans leg, and the handcuff keys came out of a pocket. He undid his manacles with shaking hands and dropped them to the ground, holding his breath a moment. Then he looked up at the camera. His eyes hardened, but his lips formed a smile, a smug smile. A victorious smile. Then his gaze dropped and he remained sitting on his ass a moment before beginning to painfully push himself into a far corner, gun in hand.

A moment later his weapon sounded from his area, to another point off the screen, most likely at the agents trying to enter the building. Strangely, Richard felt no anger toward him for this action, even after hearing how his close friend had almost been hit by one of the well-aimed bullets. Hobbes had every right to shoot. He had the right to protect himself after what he had gone through. It went on like this for half an hour, the long bouts of silence speckled with gunfire, until a man was finally allowed to enter the room. It was Darien Fawkes, Hobbes's partner.

The tall man's footsteps echoed in the room and he finally stepped in the camera's view. He gazed at it a moment in confusion, and then understanding. Anger immediately followed and he turned away with disgust, searching for his partner. A moment later he moved off screen, in the direction Hobbes had gone.

"Hey Bobby. You okay?"

"I look okay to you Fawkes?" was the flat reply.

"You look like shit." Richard listened intently, trying to pick up on the off screen conversation. He only received scattered words; brother, family, Hobbes, oh god Bobby. A few moments later they were back in view, Hobbes limping slowly towards the tape, a determined look on his face. The image blurred out of focus and then it ended.

Richard sat a moment, staring at the blue screen. He'd just been witness to some serious information, and it slightly unnerved him. He stood and ejected the tape, then collected his books. He locked his office and headed upstairs. He needed to talk to his superior, and the sooner the better.

()

The Official and Eberts sat in the Official's office, staring at the phone. They were direly aware that a certain line would ring soon. Very soon. Too soon, since neither of them wanted to hear it's cheerful chirp. They had heard that this call would be coming in yesterday, a snitch from the Bureau had called in to warn the Official. After that information had been handed out, duty had continued as usual, with many moments of lost thoughts.

Lost in those exact thoughts caused both men to jump when the phone finally rang, and Eberts poised, ready to strike, over the speakerphone button. When the line picked up he hit it, instantly tapping into the line so they could hear the conversation. Not a sound came from the two, they were too busy holding their breaths.

"Agent Hobbes here."

"Yes, Agent Hobbes. This is Alex Morgan, head of the Bureau." There was a moment of silence before Hobbes spoke again.

"Yes sir?"

"First off, how are you feeling? Better from your ordeal with Capriest I hope?" 

"Yes sir." The Official and Eberts shared a smile at the tense conversation; Hobbes was not making it easy.

"Good, that's good. Look son, I just want to start by saying that I am deeply sorry for what happened to you there. Furthermore, I would like to apologize to you on behalf of the entire Bureau, for not believing in your innocence with the Wagnall case. After your years of dedicated service we should have known better. We're sorry." Another silence occurred while Hobbes thought over the apology. After all, it's not every day that an agent would be caught apologizing for a mistake, let alone the whole agency. And from the big man himself. That must have hurt his pride.

"Yes sir." The answer held no acceptance to the apology, just acknowledgment that it had been recieved. 

"That brings me to my next point agent Hobbes. I would like you to come and work with our department again. We can always use a man with your skill. You set a good example for the younger men and women. We are also willing to double your pay, a man with your talents should not be passed up without a fight."

"I see." Hobbes voice was contemplative, unrevealing. The Official stiffened. Double pay? There was no way he could afford to offer that to Hobbes to get him to stay, and the man was always grumbling about more money. He glanced at Eberts. The two had a little bit of history together and it had in fact, been Eberts who had convinced the Official to hire Hobbes after he'd been black-listed. Eberts had a small smile on his face so the Official turned his attention back to the ongoing conversation. Hope was beginning to replace the worry in his stomach. After another few moments of tense silence Hobbes spoke.

"That's an enticing offer sir. Double pay, I could use that…

"That's good to hear son! We'll begin the transfer of your papers…"

"That won't be necessary sir." Ouch, cut off. "Over the years, I've put up with your agency. I co-operated when you needed it. Helped you when you told me you didn't want anything to do with me. Now, I'm flattered that you want me back for my "skills" as an agent. Who would have thought that all it would take would be a little bit of torture and an actual investigation in order for you to come to the conclusion that I could be worth something to you? If I had known sooner I would have jumped at the opportunity to speed up the process. As it is though, I'm happy where I am. Therefore I'm turning down your offer. If you require my services you may contact my superior. Only then will I waste my time with you people. Good day sir." A click was heard and then a quiet "shit" from the other end before the head of the Bureau also hung up.

The Official turned to Eberts, their smiles grew wide.

"Well Eberts, looks like we bagged the good guy for a while longer. How about we give him a little "enticing" offer to make it worth his while."

"I'll get the books sir, I'm sure we could find a few 'projects' to skim from."

"Very good. Get to it."

"Yes sir." And that was it. The Official slumped in his chair, relaxing for the first time since yesterday. The threat of losing Hobbes had been a wake up call to how much they needed him. Besides the fact that he was possibly the best agent there, he was the only agent good enough to keep Fawkes out of trouble. They needed him, and now they'd focus on trying to keep him. Especially now that the other agencies wanted him. Even as the Official thought this, it didn't worry him. Hobbes was a good man, and he stuck to what he believed. Right now he seemed to believe in what he was doing with The Agency, and that was enough.

END.

So….did you like it? Please let me know. J


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